


Mogens' Time Alone

by galactic_roses



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Gen, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Teasing, just mogens being nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_roses/pseuds/galactic_roses
Summary: Mogens finds some time to take care of his physical needs...Also thank you to my lovely beta reader @Blue from the Klaus discord :D
Comments: 4
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love this nasty boatman so much, I wanted him to get some lovin' attention, even if it's from himself... this time.

A single white cloud hurried across the gray sky like it had something very important to do, as far away from Smeerensburg as possible. The wind whistled across the snowy ground, and tiny puffs of glittering ice crystals blew around the feet of Smeerensburg’s boatman as he stood by the dock, his slightly bloodshot eyes fixed on the disappearing cloud.

“Outgoing mail,” a cheerful voice called from nearby. The boatman didn’t respond. When he continued to stare off into space, the owner of the voice walked up and snapped irritable fingers in front of his nose.

“Wake up, Mogens,” Jesper said, sounding exasperated. “Nap time ended an hour ago. These mail bags need to go to the mainland today.” 

The boatman finally turned, his face slack for a moment, then his broad, toothy mouth twisted up into its usual wide grin.

“Ah, the one and only postman in Smeerensburg! I’m honored.” He tipped his cap in his usual sarcastic manner, then fixed it back onto his head. “Surely the mail can wait until my nap is finished.” 

Jesper scoffed.

“I see you’re in peak form this morning,” he commented, hefting one of the large bags in his arms and staggering slightly under its weight. He made it several steps down the dock behind the boatman before one of his toes caught on the uneven wooden planks and he sprawled forward. Making a split second decision, Mogens turned, catching the bag and Jesper along with it.

“And here I was, half hoping that I’d have the privilege of watching you take your afternoon swim,” the boatman drawled, lifting the rough bag out of Jesper’s arms with ease. He ignored the odd prickling where Jesper had touched his bare skin and carried the mail onto his boat, dropping it unceremoniously in its usual spot. 

“Be careful with that!” Jesper snapped, but his irritation was half-hearted. He was grateful to have been saved from an icy dip, but he was also a bit confused. Straightening, Jesper eyed the boatman suspiciously. Something about him seemed a little off for some reason. The man had never saved Jesper from a fall before, since he usually seemed to find amusement in watching the postman go ass up in the snow. Sometimes he’d even assisted the fall with a booted foot, grinning all the while. However, this morning Mogens seemed a bit lost in his thoughts. Jesper watched the man straighten and scratch his front, then the postman shrugged and did his best to hoist up the second bag of mail. Mogens appeared a moment later to take it from him, his mouth spread in a crooked grin.

“You really always gotta have those spindly fingers touchin’ the mail, don’t you,” he said with a snide chuckle, turning to drop the bag next to the first.

“Like I said, peak form,” Jesper retorted, hitching his satchel higher on his bony shoulder. “I’m sure the mail will get to where it needs to be. Good day, Mogens.” 

He paused for a moment to send one last confused look at Mogens, then he walked away up the snowy hill. The boatman watched him retreat, his grin slowly fading back into a vacant stare. 

“Peak form?” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Dunno about that.” 

Mogens rubbed his thick-fingered hands together in a fruitless effort to bring warmth to the freezing skin. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been truly cold, it had never bothered him much before. Blowing on his fingers, he stepped up onto his boat and tossed aside the mooring lines, then moved into his position at the wheel. The cracked glass panes kept most of the wind off his face, but here or there a little gust pushed through to chill the tip of his nose. He grimaced slightly, then the boat rumbled to life beneath him. The grating sounds and the rumbling under his boots were always a comfort of sorts to him. Sometimes they were a bit too comforting, since he’d fallen asleep at the wheel just the week before and tipped over backwards, landing on his rump on the deck. Mogens grinned ruefully and increased the boat’s speed until the water began to slap the front of the craft, and he relaxed. 

His mind wandered back to his earlier exchange with Jesper. No postman had ever lasted so long in Smeerensburg before. The man had guts, Mogens could give him that. Or maybe he was just extremely stubborn. He was a little surprised that Jesper had lasted so long. Just the hopelessness of Smeerensburg should’ve driven him off long ago, but the town had been changing lately. During a morning stroll the day before, Mogens had seen three of the Krum children tiptoe past the old man sleeping in the rocking chair without even tipping him over. After so many years of witnessing the nastiness between the two clans, seeing that simple thoughtful act was enough to make Mogens stop in his tracks and stare. Something was definitely changing, and somehow it all had to do with that strange new postman.

Mogens wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and thought about the tingling he’d felt when Jesper’s hands had brushed against his bare skin. It had been a long time since someone had made any part of him tingle. And it just had to be the snarky, pompous, idiot postman. Mogens shook his head. He’d seen Jesper with the reclusive toy maker one night while he was faking a nap on an unoccupied porch in the middle of town. With the racket Jesper had made tripping over the many traps in someone’s yard, Mogens had been surprised that the entire town hadn’t immediately rioted. Apparently a whole day of feuding left the townspeople pretty exhausted.

When Jesper had finally staggered out of the house, he and the toy maker had held a whispered argument before climbing into the carriage and moving on. Mogens wasn’t exactly an expert on lawn traps, at least not the kind the villagers used, but he did know how to spot a budding… something… between two people. He’d seen it many times before, and he wasn’t wrong very often.

He had reached the mainland before he knew it. The boat bumped gently against the shore and Mogens jumped nimbly onto the dock, slipping the mooring lines onto their posts with absent, well-practiced movements. 

“Outgoing mail, then?” 

A plain-looking man got out of the driver’s seat of a plain-looking carriage and walked over.

“Absolutely! Just one moment!” Mogens called, summoning up his store of false enthusiasm to dazzle this boring man, just for the sake of his own amusement. The man did look a bit dazzled as he accepted the first bag of mail, then nearly dropped it, unprepared for its weight. Mogens let out a mocking chuckle and scooped up the second bag. He carried it over and dumped it in the back of the carriage. The man thanked him and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Ta-rah!” Mogens said in his best, falsely pleasant tone, and snapped the shack doors shut behind him. 

He waited until he heard the carriage drive away, then he slumped into his rickety chair with a deep sigh and closed his eyes. His back ached. His stomach itched, so he scratched it, then yawned. He was bored, and thinking about the postman had kindled a small fire in his gut. It had been a while since he’d… well… done anything for himself. Maybe, since he was alone…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, and explicit!! Enjoy ;)

Mogens woke up a while later, with no idea of how long he’d been asleep. He grunted and opened one eye, seeing light still shining through the cracks between the shack’s wooden boards. 

“Lucky break,” Mogens muttered, looking down at himself with a crooked half-smile. “No one is around to bug me, and I must’ve had a pretty nice dream. I wonder what it was about.” 

He had been intending to do this before he fell asleep, anyway. It really _ had _ been too long, he thought, reaching down to palm the hard bulge in his trousers. His fingers shook a bit as he pulled off his fingerless gloves and undid the belt that kept up his pants, pushing them down around his waist. If he wasn’t so lazy, he would’ve gotten up to take them off all the way, but that required standing up. He pushed the thick folds of cloth down even further, and reached into his woolen underwear. When his cold fingers wrapped around his shaft, a delightful shiver ran down his spine. It wasn’t the cold—he’d done this a million times before with chilly hands and he simply ignored it— it was simply the skin to skin contact. Ignoring that depressing notion, he screwed up his face, spat in his free palm, and pulled his cock out, then began to pump his fist over the hot length. It felt a bit odd at first, as his cold hand slicked against the shockingly warm, slippery skin, then the temperatures evened out, and he got into his stride. Absently stroking his cock, Mogens thought about his dream. He thought he could remember a little bit of it, but not much. Flashes of pink, flushed skin under his hands, soft blond hair twined around his fingertips… 

Mogens gritted his teeth and increased his pace as heat began to pool in his stomach. He hiked up his shirt to get it out of the way and spat in his palm again, determined to make this feel as good as he could manage. When he gripped him shaft again, he let out a tiny groan, and continued to pleasure himself.

Warmth began to rise in his core. His muscles tightened, and unbidden, a thin face topped by fluffy, blond hair floated to his mind’s eye. He grunted as Jesper’s visage wavered in front of him, taunting him. Maybe it was just that the postman was new and entertaining, but maybe… Mogens grunted again, and he felt his climax approaching like a rising storm over a furious ocean.

Just as he was about to finally reach orgasm, someone knocked on the top half of the shack door.

“Hello, anyone there?” a voice asked. Mogens uttered a foul string of curses.

“One moment, if ya please,” he snapped, then focused on himself again. He grasped his cock, pumped his hand a few times, and came hard, his body shaking with blissful release. Managing to catch the release in his free hand, he sighed, then wiped his palm on the underside of the chair and stood, pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. The person began knocking again just as Mogens shoved on the top half of the door and snapped it open, very nearly clipping the nose of the startled, snooty looking man standing outside, fist still raised in knocking position. Mogens summoned his widest, toothiest grin and plastered it across his face.

“Well, well, well… what have we here? You lost?”

“No, I’m--”

“Looking for passage to Smeerensburg?” Mogens interrupted.

The man nodded, looking annoyed.

“I guess you’ve come to the right place, then. I’m the captain of the ferry, go by the name of Mogens. Nice to meet ya.” 

Mogens thrust his hand through the opening and out into the cold, his eyes twinkling wickedly. The snooty man looked at him and grimaced.

“Ugh, shake your hand? I think not! Goodness knows where it’s been.” 


End file.
